


Swords of the Fire

by WalkingPotterGirl14



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon Snow is King in the North, Loss of Innocence, Murder, Protective Jon Snow, Sansa is corrupted, Training, but cousins so not that bad, sibling incest (at first)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingPotterGirl14/pseuds/WalkingPotterGirl14
Summary: With the Battle of Winterfell won, Sansa Stark finds herself having nightmares that progressively have gotten worse. After trying everything under the moon to make them go away, she goes to the last: training as her brothers did. Who better to train the Lady of Winterfell than the King in the North? (eventual Jon/Sansa, post-season 6)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m actually writing another fanfiction about Jon and an OC, but as is tradition, I also fell for a ship that isn’t technically right but I still love anyway, and I decided to write it in this! It takes place after season six, once they are back in Winterfell, and season seven might be a little AU but it will mostly follow the series closely. I tend to stick with source material on occasions. 
> 
> But in this Sansa gonna be a badass. Just ya wait. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Nightmares were something that occurred regularly now. Sansa Stark was plagued with nightmares. So many times had she closed her eyes, and as soon as sleep consumed her, she was back in a world of pain, chasing her into the early morning every single time she woke up. Sweat would be dripping down her face, and her heart rate would be excelling faster than humanly possible. 

She shouldn’t be surprised now. In fact, whenever she went to sleep she was expecting it. They had been happening ever since Jon had fought Ramsey on that field, since she had arrived back at Winterfell with him and the others, since Ramsey had been eaten by his own dogs. But even now that he was gone, even now that he wasn’t even a thought anymore, he still plagued her dreams. 

He knew that there were other people out there, looking for her. She knew from the moment she arrived back at Castle Black, that her walking through those doors was only going to lead to more trouble. But here she was, months later, still alive. But the nightmares were slowly draining her life. 

This particular morning was a bad one. It had been her back in his castle, in the same room, the same thing happening to her over, and over and over. And each time it felt like it would get progressively worse. And when she finally did wake up, it was when he stabbed her in the back with the same knife he used to give her cuts. 

Sansa runs her hands through her hair, now unkempt from her slumber, and then fell to the bed. She had to do something about this. She had to somehow stop them, or at least slow them down. In every single situation, she would always wake up scared. She was surprised she hadn’t woken up screaming. 

The young woman slowly stands up, trying to get the aching pain out of her head. Those dreams had ended in headaches too. Headaches that made her head spin and want to fall off her neck. The best way she could give rid oft them would probably be a bath, but she didn’t have the time nor the patience for that this morning. 

Quietly, she stood up and got dressed slowly, calming her beating heart. Every morning it was a reminder, a reminder that she was alive, he was dead, she was here and Ramsey was in the ground. She was safe. He was gone. But even then, with every single time she did it, the nightmares always seemed to come back worse. 

She knew she wasn’t the only one plagued with nightmares. Plenty of men had gone into battle and she was sure they were suffering as well. But there was just something about hers that made her want to curl up into a ball and never leave her bed. She just wanted them all to go away. But she was a lady, and a lady didn’t cower. 

She moved on with her day and took it as it came. 

Sansa lets out a quiet sigh once more when she was fully dressed. She had been wearing a lot of black lately. Grey and green seemed to become more of a part of her wardrobe. She didn’t know if it was mainly because of her house colors, or the fact that her mind hadn’t been bright since before she arrived at Kings Landing. 

God, she remembered when she was young, how bloody dumb she had been. All the pretty dresses and crowns she wanted to wear. To be someone’s little princess and rule by their side. She wanted a fairytale, something that wasn’t possible anymore. No one ever lived a fairytale. She found that out as soon as her father was executed. 

After looking at the dress once more, noticing it was more of a green than a grey now, she grabbed her cloak and placed it over her, making sure it was tight enough. The winter had surely come now, and she felt like it was going to be taking its real toll on her. She runs a brush quickly through her hair, not really caring how it looked today. 

She had bigger issues going on. 

After that, she quietly stepped outside of her chambers and walked towards the main hall, looking around quietly. Plenty of people greeted her as she awoke, looking at her with a smile, as if she was the biggest ray of sunshine around. Well, when it came to talking to people she was. In fact, she always made sure that she somehow had some sort of smile, even if she was trying to say something firm. But her smile was never really real. Nothing about her was real anymore. 

The few people who greeted her went off to do their merry things, and she went outside, looking for the one man that she did need to talk to. But as she stepped outside, Jon was nowhere to be seen. Curious, she walks over to Ser Davos, who was talking to one of the people in the courtyard. 

“Ser Davos,” she says. The man turns around and gives a soft bow. 

“Your grace,” he replies. She honestly didn’t like it when people called her that. She didn’t want to be some sort of queen to someone anymore. From what had happened to her, she didn’t want to be leader of anything for a while unless someone was by her side. But it was her title at Winterfell, and there was nothing she could really do about that. 

“Do you know were Jon is? I need to speak with him about something.” Ser Davos nods. 

“The King woke up early today to go train some of the guards more, but most of them have returned. I suppose he’s still at the training ground.” She nods her head. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly before heading towards the training ground. They had designated a small part of Winterfell as somewhere people could train. She knew Jon was focused on the White Walkers, and everything in between, but she knew that sooner or later she would have to face Cersei again. And she wanted to be prepared for when that day come. But try talking to Jon about it, it was a whole other issue. 

Oh, Jon. The one piece of family she had left in this world and sometimes they went at odds. As far as she knew, she and him were the only ones around. Arya was god knows where, if she was still alive, and Bran was nowhere to be seen. Everyone else was dead. She hated to think about it, but he was the only one she had left. 

It was painful, that was for sure. Her nightmares were filled with their deaths too. Those things she just can’t erase from her mind. Her father’s head being cut off, hearing of Robb’s death, her mother’s, everyone. 

In a way, she was extremely thankful for Jon. He had been some sort of rock to her during the day. Even if she was alone during the nights, during the day she could distract her fears by helping him plan, being by his side, doing other things to somehow keep herself busy, and usually that involved him. She felt terrible for how she was when she was younger. 

God, why hadn’t she just been nice to him then. He was so easy to be nice to. He was stubborn as an ox, but all of them were. She had a feeling it was a Stark family trait at this point. But he was also sweet when he wanted to be, a caring man. And she wished that she could find more leaders like that in this world. But that wasn’t much of a thing anymore, was it? 

Everyday she thought about how horrible she had been as a sister. As someone who should have at least treated him like a sibling rather than the scum on her shoe. Even if he had forgiven her, the thought of it in her mind still made her skin crawl. She never wanted to think about how bad she had been. 

But she didn’t have much of a choice. 

Sansa sighs and walks towards the training ground, looking over at the other men who had come back from training. They looked worked down, a few had cuts and dirt on their faces, but among them Jon wasn’t. Sighing, she walks a little further, over a lookpass, only to spot him training by himself. She tilts her head slightly, watching him move a little. She had heard the boys clang their swords when they were younger, had heard them train, but she had never had any interest in it then. Arya learning back then had made her even more disinterested in it. ‘A lady doesn’t train. A lady sits by the fire and sews, waiting for her husband to come home.’

She was starting to think that the description wasn’t really her anymore. 

Sure, she was still a lady. Sure, she still sat by the fire and relaxed. And of course she loved to be served food or have a nice home. But she found herself drifting away a bit more from the statement. She didn’t sew as much-only when she really felt inclined. She never cooked. She never did anything a lady was really supposed to do. And she had a feeling she knew why. 

Anything that remotely reminded her of being in Ramsey’s care, anything that reminded her of being a ‘lady,’ she wasn’t the biggest supporter of. Because of that, she ended up letting go of a lot of things she once held dear. Now…now she didn’t care as much. 

Sansa sighs and leans against the bannister of the lookover. Honestly, now she wished she had watched when she was younger, maybe have even learned a little like Arya. At least then she would have a little bit of a bloody clue what was going on.

“Lady Sansa,” a voice says to her right. Sansa feels a shiver run up her spine, and her bumps rise on her skin. She knew that voice. 

“Lord Baelish. What a sight to see,” she states, keeping her face up. That was something else her patience had been running a little thin on lately. This man. 

She would ever be thankful for him helping them in the battle, and for helping her in general before. But she still knew his game. She wasn’t stupid. He was smart, but so was she. 

“I’m sure you’re enjoying your new position, Lady of Winterfell.” Sansa sighs and looks over at him, knowing where he was going with this. 

“I am enjoying it. Petyr, I’m sorry, but I have no want nor need for the Iron Throne.” She looks back at Jon, completely oblivious to their conversation. “If you want it, then you have to go somewhere else. I’m satisfied here.” 

“Are you, Sansa? You don’t think I’ve heard you wake up with nightmares every single night?” Her brow furrows and she looks over at him in shock. He only nods. “I’ve heard you, Sansa. I’ve heard how much stress and anger you are in. You need to get away from here. You need to claim what’s rightfully yours.”

Sansa looks at him, almost incredulously. “What I need is to get out of your sight,” she hisses, stepping away. “You aren’t even supposed to be in the castle unless called. That means you’ve been sneaking inside just to listen to me? How dare you even suggest I come with you after doing that,” she growls. 

Petyr goes to say something, but is stopped when someone’s voice calls out. “Lord Baelish?” 

The two heads turn over to see Jon looking up at them, and then coming to the stairs. “Your grace,” he says, bowing his head. Sansa looks at him quietly, her insides squirming. She didn’t want to be around this man anymore. There was something going on in his mind that she really didn’t want to be a part of. 

Jon nods and looks at Sansa. “Are you alright, Sansa?” She nods, taking a step away from Littlefinger. 

“I’m fine, Jon. Can we go for a ride?” she requests. He looks at her curiously before nodding, and then nods to Lord Baelish before the two walk away. Petyr watches them quietly, before swiftly leaving. Sansa could hear his footsteps leaving, and she felt her heart give out quietly. Maybe she needed to get out as bad as he said she needed. 

~%~

“So are you going to tell me what happened back there or are we going to sit in silence?”

Sansa sighs as the two of them ride their horses into the woods. They had been riding for a good few minutes now, and as soon as Winterfell was hidden behind the trees, Jon had opened his mouth to speak. She looks over at him and lets out another sigh, slowing down her horse. 

Jon had a way of picking out how she was feeling just by saying a single word. They had been spending a lot of time together the past months, and she didn’t blame him for knowing that something was going on. She turns to him as soon begins to fall. A few flakes caught in her hair, melting as if on fire. 

“Petyr said something that just upset me and…” Sansa sighs and shakes her head. “Really, Jon. It’s nothing.” He walks the horse over to her, looking at her with a firm look. 

“It is nothing if he’s making you uncomfortable, Sansa. You’re my family. You can tell me anything.” His voice was full of passion, as if he had planned this out. Honestly, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. God knows that he did do a lot of speeches. But he didn’t say this kind of thing often, especially to her. 

She often kept to herself, made herself a little unknown to him and his mind. But here he was, knowing something was going on. So quietly, she takes a deep breath and sighs, glancing at the ground. “I’ve been having nightmares. Bad ones. And no matter what I do or what I drink or whatever it is, I can’t make them go away. I wake up nearly screaming all the time because I think his…his hands are…” 

She couldn’t even bring herself to say it. Jon came over and rests his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sansa. You shouldn’t have ever had to gone through that.” She looks at him quietly, her eyes holding unshedded tears. She wouldn’t let them go, not now in front of him. The young woman takes a deep breath and looks at him again. 

“I’ve been thinking…you want every boy and girl to learn to fight. I want you to train me.” 

His brow raises. “What?” She knew he hadn’t been expecting that, out of everything for her to say. Sansa wasn’t the kind of woman to swing around a sword, but she was willing to learn for this. For herself and for the cause. “What the hell are you talking about, Sansa? You aren’t-“

“I don’t care what I can or can not do, Jon,” she says, looking away. “That’s the last thing I can do to somehow make these nightmares go away. To learn to defend myself. To actually be something. And I want you to be the one to teach me.”

She knew her argument was clear and grounded. It was a steady thing to ask of. But still, he looked at her quietly, trying to assess if she was really for this or not. When she didn’t waiver, or say it was a joke, he sighs. “Do you really want this, Sansa?” She nods, biting her lip. He looks her over once more, before nodding his head. “Alright. I’ll train you. But it goes by my rules.” 

She smiles and nods. “That is of no problem,” she says softly, turning away. “Thank you.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head “Don’t thank me yet.” She looks down and nods. He was right. She shouldn’t be thanking him. She still had a long way to go. But his yes was the first step there.


	2. Training Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sansa and Jon train, and he realizes some things about his half-sister

Wow, I’m shocked at the response that this has gotten. You guys are awesome, glad to know I’m not alone on this haha. Hope you enjoy! 

~%~

He didn’t know how to start this. 

When Sansa had requested she be trained by him, Jon’s first thought was where the hell was his bloody sister. Out of everyone in the whole entire world, she was the last person he would think would ask him to train. But there she had been, asking him to train her in the middle of the snow. 

His second thought was ‘how is this going to help her?’ She knew the training he did. He didn’t stop until something small at least was accomplished by the end of the day. He liked to see progress and she knew hat sometimes the training could be harder than usual. But yet she still asked, because it would be a way to give rid of her nightmares. 

And once he had seen the desperate look in her eyes, he knew that he needed to train her. As much as Sansa had annoyed him as a child and treated him like scum on the bottom of a shoe, she wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t even close to that girl anymore. She was stronger than she thought and wiser than she knew. He needed her here to help him rule. She knew more about politics than he did. 

And when he thought about that, she was right. In order for her to be in the right state of mind to help him, she needed to feel at ease. And those nightmares of Ramsey hurting her wasn’t helping her mind in any part. So when he thought about that, he had agreed, seeing the smile on her face. 

Now, he was sitting in his chambers, looking at himself in the mirror he did have. He was in training gear, but it was enough so that it wouldn’t be heavy. Sansa had never even held a sword in her life. He didn’t know how she would even respond to something like this, but he would try. Maybe she would do better with something like Needle, the sword he had given Arya when he first left for the Wall. But Sansa was older, and even if she couldn’t handle the fighting yet, he had a feeling she could handle the weight of the sword. 

Quietly, he grabs one from the dresser on his room, looking down at it. It wasn’t extremely heavy, and looked to be like it would be something good for her hands. So quietly, he places his own sword in his sheath and walks down to the entrance of the castle, looking around at the people who were there. Some people were talking, some drinking. As he passed, a few bowed at him. 

Jon had to let out a sigh. He wasn’t the hugest fan of being King. He didn’t ask for it, he didn’t want it, but they had elected it to him, and he had accepted. But he didn’t want to be some royal god to these people, he just wanted to be what we was before, Jon Snow. Someone who fought for the people he cared about and for the things that needed to be won. Even before he was King people would question that, but now, it seemed more people questioned it even oftener. At this point, he had just gotten used to it, but he still took notice whenever someone was responding in a way that wasn’t necessarily a good way to respond to someone like him. 

Sighing, he nods at some people before Ser Davos stops him. “Are you sure this is a good idea, my lord?” 

Jon looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He had told Davos about training Sansa a few days ago, when she had originally asked him to train her. At the time, the man hadn’t known what to say. Now, he seemed to have everything to say. 

“What are you talking about now?” Jon asks. Ser Davos sighs. 

“You are the King here, and I do not mean to question your decisions. But training Lady Sansa might not be the best idea.” Jon sighs and turns to him, placing a hand on the sword in his sheath. He wasn’t going to pull, it was just a force of habit now whenever he was trying to keep his patience. 

“I have already requested that every boy and girl learn to fight,” he says to Davos calmly. “Sansa isn’t even a girl anymore, she’s a young woman. She should learn to fight just as the others should.” 

Davos sighs and nods his head. “I understand that, my lord. I do. With all my being, I do. But at the time, you two are going off for a long amount of time somewhere no one really knows about to train one of the leaders of this Kingdom. While you are gone, who takes care of us? Who takes care of the rest of them? We need a leader here at all times, my lord. Winter is here and it could strike at any second.”

Jon looks out at the path in front of him before biting his lower lip. Slowly, he lowers his voice so only Davos could hear. “Davos, this needs to be done. I didn’t request she learn, she requested me to teach her to help with some problems she has. There is nothing against anyone here, but she needs to train. And I believe that even while I’m gone, this place will be in good hands.” He looks at Davos and nods. “It’s only for an hour or two. You needed need to worry.” 

Davos looks at him quietly, as if trying to asses what he was saying, before he let out a long sigh. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “Alright…just make it back here safely, my lord.” Jon nods and then takes his leave, leaving the man behind. Davos sighs once more before going into the castle, leaving the man to his work. 

Jon walked towards the training ground he and Sansa had set. He just hoped that she understood where they would meet. 

~%~

It took Jon a while to reach where they were, but once he did, he was surprised to see how Sansa was dressed. He hadn’t been expecting her to wear a flowey gown like she usually did, but he wasn’t expecting what he had seen either. 

Instead of wearing the typical training clothes he had seen on multiple people, she was wearing something similar to what soldiers wore when they trained. She was actually wearing pants, the first time he had ever seen her wear something like that, with what looked like a well made shirt that seemed to be one made from some sort of metal. Although it looked like a regular shirt. 

Before he could speak, she looks over at hearing his approaching footsteps. He spots a small smile on her face from where he stood and she chuckles. “You’d think we’re having an affair considering how far away you told me to go to train.” 

Jon snorts before walking towards her, holding out a sword. “Take it.” She raises an eyebrow at his command but nods, taking it into her hands. “I told you to come out here because if someone sees you training in the town we’re both going to get in trouble.” She tilts her head in confusion but nods. 

“Alright. Then that’s fine.” She holds the sword and looks down at it quietly. “This looks a little larger than Arya’s sword that you gave her.” Jon shakes his head and takes out his own sword. 

“Arya was barely twelve when she had gotten it. You’re a young woman now, you deserve a bigger sword.” She nods her head, agreeing with him. He looks at her confused. “How come you’re agreeing with everything I say?”

She looks at him incredulously. “You’re asking why I’m agreeing with you? You must have lost your mind, Jon.” He sighs and shakes his head. 

“Sansa, if you don’t recall, you question everything I do in the meeting room. Even in front of all of Winterfell to see, you always question it. You agreeing with everything I say right now isn’t just a change from when you were a younger-it’s a change to how you are now.” Sansa looks down at the sword and sighs, before walking up to him. 

“Jon, the reason why I question you in the meetings with the lords and lady’s isn’t because I think you’re wrong in what you do or what you command. You know that I’m worried for you because of what our father and Robb had been through and what happened to them. I told you, I don’t want you making those same choices. And I know you’re smart, but you know you need me to help you as well in this. I know more about the other kingdoms than you, that’s why I question you there.” 

She looks down at the sword and holds it hard, a surprisingly good grip for someone who was just holding a sword for the first time. 

“But on this, you know much more at training than I will ever know. So anything you say about this to me, I will agree. I agreed to be your student, so I will listen to you as a student.” She said it so casually, like it was the most simple thing in the world. And this new Sansa actually made him almost smile. 

It was the epitome of someone growing up. When she was younger, she would question literally everything about him, even with his training to his legitimacy, and anything in-between those things. But now she trusted him enough to teach her about something he did really know. And it made him proud of her for finally acknowledging that. Maybe her times out in the castles and being with the Lannister’s hadn’t all been for the worse. 

“Thank you, Sansa,” he says genuinely. She lets out a mix between a smile and a grimace. She wasn’t trying to make the situation friendly, she was just trying to get the session started. He looks at her clothes again and his thought comes back. “Where did you get those clothes? I don’t think those would ever be in the Lady of Winterfell’s closet.” 

Sansa rolls her eyes and then looks down at them. “Brienne told me the basics of what I needed to train. So last night I stayed up and made the clothes for working.” His brow raised, and his expression made her laugh, and he found that her laugh was actually something quite amusing. It had grown along with her. “I know, you would never believe me, the girl who wanted to wear nothing but dresses and be a princess as a child, to be holding a sword and wearing pants like Arya.”

Jon shakes his head and comes forward. “Sansa, honestly…I’m proud of you.” She tilts her head. “Even if this had happened last minute, and I wasn’t expecting it, I’m proud of you for doing this. You’ve grown a lot. Both of us have, but I believe you’ve done more, because I never thought I would see this on you or see you wanting to train.” Sansa nods, taking a step back. 

“Well…most people change. So have I.” She raises her sword and then nods. “Alright, brother. Teach me.” 

He almost had to laugh at her commanding tone. There was the Sansa he knew, commanding people to her will. But instead of snapping, he nods and comes forward. She did ask him to train her, it was about time he started. 

“Alright, first off, your grip is good.” He places his hand on hers, holding the sword as tightly as he could. “But you’re not holding it right.” She looks at him in confusion. 

“My hand is on the handle. How else am I supposed to hold it?” she asks, brow furrowed. He almost chuckles. She had a long way to go. He moves her hand so that it was at a new angle, and looks down at her. 

“Yes, it is on the handle, but you need to hold it at a certain angle so that you can easily swing it at any enemies. Your wrist is your best ally when you’re using a sword. Holding the sword at the perfect angle ensures that you won’t strain your wrist faster when you fight.” She nods, holding it at the angle he requested. “Keep you left hand underneath your right one. That’s the one you swing with.”

She nods and looks up at him. “What next?” 

Wow, she was a lot eager than he thought she would be. She was really serious about this. 

He nods and moves in front of her, taking out his own sword. “Once you got the right angle, you learn the basic moves. So we’ll start with that, that’s how I taught Arya.” Sansa nods and watches him, her blue eyes intense. 

And he actually felt a little bit of pressure on him. He knew he shouldn’t, she was his bloody sister, for Gods sakes, but he still felt like he had to prove to her that he did know what he was talking about. 

“Alright, we’ll start with this.” He aims with his sword, close to his chest. “When you strike, you need to stab at the sky. You bring your left hand past your eye. Then, you use your right hand to guide the blade and the left hand for force. Your right hand is the pivot.” He shows her this exact movement, and after a couple of tries, picks it up. “Good work. Now you have to work on your footing a bit. You need to place your left foot behind your right.” 

Her brow furrows. “How come?”

“It keeps your balance, and that way when you’re fighting, you stay on the balls of your feet. Quick movements are what keep you alive, and staying on the balls are the key to those quick movements.” He moves his feet to show her exactly what he was doing. “When you strike, you put force on your left and slide forward, and that’s when you hit your target.” 

She nods and follows him. So far, so good. She was doing everything he said and was making sure that she was following him. He nods and steps forward to her. 

“We can practice a bit. I’m not going to fight with you yet, just practice the striking and movements, alright?” Sansa rolls her eyes but nods. 

“I’m not entirely glass, Jon.” He shakes his head. Could have fooled me. 

Well, then again, she wasn’t all glass. Sure, she had been broken many times before. They both had. But she had been trying to repair those breaks by this training. On that, he gives her a lot of credit. It had taken him a bit to get back into the swing of life once Ygritte had been killed. Just thinking of her sent a bit of pain to his heart, but he had learned that even though it had happened, he had to move on from it. He was King now. Memories couldn’t control him, even Ygritte would always mean something to him. 

He practices the striking with her back and forth, and was surprised that after a few tries, she picked up quite nicely. Of course she had a long way to go until she really knew how to use a sword, but she was actually blocking well for a beginner. As he kept going, seeing her strike improving, he sped up a bit. At one point, she didn’t dodge a shot and nearly hit the ground, but instead of pouting like he expected her to, she stood up and raised the sword again. 

Jon raises an eyebrow and swings again, and this time she ducks and blocks, surprising him. He hadn’t even taught her to dodge yet. “Where did you learn that?” he asks her, his voice laced with surprise. 

“I’ve seen Brienne train a bit,” she says simply, gripping her weapon. “It’s hard not to considering she hovers over me constantly.” 

Jon nods. He knew Brienne was sworn to protect Sansa, but he did notice how the woman was constantly near her during meetings and everything in-between. He walks to her side and places a hand on her right arm. “You need to keep your arm straight and bend it when it reaches your head. But remember you strike when your hand is closest to the pommel.” 

She nods and does as he says, moving with ease. As he watches her, he notices how easily she flows into moving. She was learning quicker than he ever thought she would, with a few missteps here and there, she was moving well. And then she did something even he wasn’t expecting. She moved her feet one spot and swung her weapon, swinging it towards his. 

At the last minute he noticed and raised his weapon to block her blow, but he felt his brow raise. “Did you just try to attack me?”

Sansa lowers her weapon. “Always attack when your enemy is most vulnerable. You weren’t paying attention.” She looks at the ground. “I learned that from someone else.” Jon looks at her quietly before placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him. 

“That’s right…and you’re right, I wasn’t expecting that. You did well.” She manages a small smile, looking back at the ground. “I think we’re done for today…you did well, Sansa.” She smiles a bit and nods. “We should head back, I’m sure everyone is wondering where we’ve gone.” Quietly, they both start heading back, a comfortable silence between them. 

Maybe training wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

~%~

Later when night had come, Jon was getting undressed for bed, thinking of Sansa and how she had trained. He had to admit that he was surprised at how easily she had caught on. Maybe all her time with those horrid people hadn’t been for the worse if she had picked up a few things. He was proud of her for the amount of training she had gotten in and how quickly she had caught on. 

He sighs as he places on a nightshirt, looking out at the snow. He could see in her eyes that Sansa was distressed about what had happened to her, but he had seen while she trained that it had disappeared for a while. And for some reason that made him feel a little bit happy. He had taken away her pain for the small time being they had trained, and in that way, he wanted to train her more. She was his sister, and he wanted to see her happy. 

Jon glances outside and then spots someone down in the courtyard. Hesitantly, he walks a little bit forward, seeing it was someone under a hood. As his eyes focused in more, he spots exactly who it was creeping through the gates and down into the chambers. 

Littlefinger. 

~%~

How’d you like their first training session? Not much romantics going on yet but I’m trying to build the bond. And Petyr’s up to no good. 

Love it? Hate it? Let me know in the comments. You guys are the best follower and favoriters and reviewers in the world. And the reviews and follows always keep me going. Writing is made awesome because of you. 

Hope you all have an awesome day/night wherever you are! Luv ya!

~Ali


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to your comments, they made me day, as well as all the amazing kudos. You guys are amazing as well. On with the show :)

~%~

He admitted that he might be a little obsessed. 

Petyr knew from the first time he laid eyes on Sansa as a younger woman that she looked exactly like her mother when she had been a young maiden. And he knew that based off that fact, he would do anything to come closer to her. It was harder now that her brother was king, but he had found his ways to sneak around and see her. 

It wasn’t like he meant it in a horrible way. He just loved her. It was as simple as that. And he hated that she didn’t want him in return. 

His way of sneaking into the castle was something that he was accustomed to. He would wait until late in the night, when everyone was usually asleep and he was the only person out in the cold. And when he took that to his advantage, he was able to sneak in easily without any distractions or chance of being caught. 

This night was no different, except when he did reach Sansa’s chambers, and looked into the slight hole he could see to peek into her room, he saw a very peculiar looking Sansa. 

Instead of her being in her usual gowns that she wore on the day, she was in something different. It looked like something soldiers might wear when they train, except it fit her well. She was taking off pants, which he was shocked she even owned, but before he could get more of any look, he was suddenly thrown against the wall, and faced a pair of angry brown eyes. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the man growls at him, and in his panic, he notices it’s Jon Snow, glaring at him with such rage in his features that it made the man squirm a bit. He had never seen the King in the North so angry in this very moment, but Petyr had kept his cool and looked at him quietly, trying to make the situation not seem as bad as it could be. 

“My lord, this isn’t what it looks like,” he says calmly, but Jon only pushed him more up against the wall.

“Isn’t what it looks like? That you’re staring at my sister like she’s some piece of meat? Like she’s one of the whores outside while she undresses?” he growls at him. Petyr swallows but openshis mouth once done to say something. Although before his tongue could even utter a syllable, Jon throws him to the ground, looking down at him with the same anger as before, none dissolved. 

“My ki-“

“If I ever see you near Sansa again, I will personally send you to my direwolf to be eaten,” Jon snarls at him. “If I see you lay a single finger on her, I’ll have you hurt. You don’t touch her at all.” The man swallows but nods, and then runs off. This wouldn’t be the end, but for tonight, it was. 

~%~

Jon watches him run before running a hand through his hair. 

He had never gotten that angry in his life. Not even when beating the living hells out of Ramsey Bolton after the battle for Winterfell. But seeing Petyr looking at Sansa like that brought back the memories of Sansa being touched by Ramsey. Being raped by Ramsey. Being hurt in general by that bastard, and then the thought came back that he had let that happen. 

Petyr had sent the woman to the Boltons, and he had caused Sansa to go through all that pain. And there was just something inside of him that made him rage in anger at the thought of the man who already caused Sansa so much pain looking at her in any way that was closely related to lust or ‘love,’ as Petyr called it. 

“…Jon?”

He turns around as quickly as he came, and saw the woman who he had been ranting about in his head just moments ago staring at him, curiosity in her gaze and worry within her blue eyes. The fire from the torches on the wall illuminated them in the darkness, and in that moment he really realized how blue her eyes really were, as blue as the water on the sea.

He swallows and shakes his head. “Yes, Sansa?” he asks her, looking at her with a calmer expression than before. 

She leans against the door, looking at him with crossed arms, and the light lit up her features. She had changed in the ruckus he had caused by nearly strangling Petyr, and now was wearing a nightgown that just barely reached her feet, and he could tell there was no binding underneath it as well. He swallows once more and looks away, shaking his head. 

Why the hell was he suddenly noticing all these things now? Bloody, Petyr. He knew Sansa was beautiful, he had known since he was younger. Lady Catelyn had been beautiful, so it was only natural Sansa and Arya would acquire her looks. But now it seemed to be itching away at his mind more. 

“Is everything alright out here?” she asks softly. 

Jon nods, looking back at her and keeping his eyes on her face. “Everything is fine. Petyr was just…doing something I didn’t approve of.” Sansa nods, looking at him quietly. She sighs and walks towards him, and he looks down. It wasn’t the time for her to be getting close, but she was his sister. She was allowed. Even if it made him uncomfortable in this moment for some stupid reason. 

“I know he watches me,” she says softly. He looks down at her in shock, this time more in confusion and anger combined into one emotion. 

“You bloody knew?” he growls lowly at her. 

Sansa sighs and nods. “That day I asked you to start training me. He had hinted at it then. He had said he saw how I woke up at night from my nightmares, all sweaty, but of course, how could he know about that without watching me?” Sansa bites her lip and shakes her head. “Petyr…is suspicious. I know this. And he is the reason why I was at Winterfell. And for that, I don’t think I’ll ever forget. But he has done a lot to save us. He helped you beat Ramsey, Jon. He helped you take back Winterfell with the Vale.” 

Jon looks down at her, and then everything suddenly clicks. He didn’t do it for Winterfell. He had done it for Sansa. And for some reason, that made him even angrier. 

“He only did that for you, Sansa. He only did that so he could possibly get under your skirt,” he snaps at her. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you now. He can’t be trusted to be around you, Sansa, even if he did help us.” Sansa looks up at him quietly, as if trying to take in his information, but he expression didn’t change. In fact, it stayed exactly the same. 

“I know this, Jon,” she says quietly. “I know he did. But what else are we going to do? The Vale is on our side, and that’s the best chance we have at beating any threat from the North or the South. And even if he does do things like that, we still need him for his army. For every battle that might or will happen.” 

Damn it, he hated it when she made sense. 

Jon sighs and nods. “I know, he just…made me angry. I don’t know why. He’s just the reason you went through Bolton in the first place, Sansa. Why you went through so much pain.” Sansa smiles, almost bitterly, and takes a step back. 

“I know…but we can’t focus on that anymore.” He looks over at her, and then sees a quite smile come across her face. “Besides, we have more training tomorrow.” Her eyes glance down his chest and she snorts, a very unladylike thing for her to be doing. “And do put on a shirt. It’s freezing outside.” 

Jon looks down and felt his cheeks turn red. Because of how quick he had seen Littlefinger enter the caverns he had run out of his room before putting on a shirt. He nods and looks up. “Right. Need to do that. Goodnight.” Sansa chuckles before closing her door quietly. 

“Goodnight, Jon.”

The sound of the door meeting the end echoed down the hall, and he had to let out a long sigh, before looking out at the long walk ahead of him back to his chambers. It wasn’t that long, but it felt like it due to what had happened tonight. To everything she had said to Petyr being here. And all he knew was that he was going to be facing a lot of obstacles now to try and keep Sansa safe. 

And now, not just from the Walkers or from the South. From Petyr as well. 

~%~

Running, that was all Sansa knew was happening. She was running on what seemed like an endless hallway, the light from the fire the only object that illuminated the path in front of her. It must have been at least midnight, but here she was, running so fast. 

His laugh echoed deep, dark, as if he was everywhere on all the walls surrounding her. And with each step she felt the dirty barriers closing in on her with harder laughs, and evil snarls, and anger filled shouts. 

Finally, when she reached the end of that hall, her feet made a right, and almost instantly, it’s a dead end. Just plain stone in front of her, as if there had been nothing there ever. She turns around and the hallway she had just run down had disappeared. For that too, in front of her, was just stone now. Nothing had been there ever. Nothing had ever been there. 

Her heart beats out of her chest as she starts to breath rapidly, the beat echoing in the stone room. And as she turns around, she’s met with two eyes, grinning wildly. And then that laugh. “It’s a pleasure to catch you again, Sansa,” the voice growls.

Sansa screams as he pushes her against the wall, tearing at her gown. The sound vibrates in her ears, and the darkness consumer her as he banged her head against the wall. Blood filled her vision with the combination of stars and patches of night that swept her vision. This was it. This was it. This was-

Sansa gasps, waking up in a flash, the sheets clinging to her sweat streaked body. Hyperventilating, she brings her legs to her chest, pressing them against her soaked nightgown, and cries into her knees, letting all the pain out. Gods, she hated feeling this weak, but those nightmares…they turned her into a sobbing mess. 

She felt like every time she had them, she lost a little bit of innocence with each little scream and each little tear that would happen within her mind while she slept. And whenever she woke up, her innocence would disappear more within a few hours, when she fell back asleep once the night fell. Her hair and clothes would be drenched in sweat from her nighterrors, and her sheets would be thrown and tossed and turned everywhere, and she would wake up, nearly screaming or panting or feeling like she was dying once more, while her heart nearly flew up her throat. 

Those were her days now. Not even the one-day training with Jon had helped her much, but it had only been one day. One day didn’t solve most problems. Problems needed time to heal, and her problem was one of those big ones that seemed like it was going to last for a long time, something she would always have to deal with.

One step at a time. 

Sansa sighs and runs a hand through her hair, before looking down at her nightgown. She was going to have to wash this soon. Or else it was going to stink of sweat for Gods knew how long. Maybe she would make another nightgown to wear, but that would get drenched as well. Her clothes were going to be torn apart by the time these nightmares stopped, if they ever did, but training was the last thing she could do.

So she would. For a chance to feel better. She thought back to Jon, who had confronted Petyr the night before. She had no idea he had that anger in him. Jon had always been the level-headed one, and seeing that he been a shock to her. The only time she had ever seen him angry was beating Ramsey, and this time he seemed just as angry as then while holding Petyr against a wall. 

It had been something unexpected, but she had appreciated it all the same. In fact, it had been something she really liked. That he was willing to beat down Petyr. But she knew it wouldn’t stop. And she also knew that she needed to find a way to stop it. She also remembered he had been shirtless last night and she chuckles, shaking her head. He had been embarrassed about it, but had rushed towards her despite the cold. In that sense, she was thankful for that. 

Queitly, she slowly stood up and walked towards her chest, getting changed. She knew that she had another day of training ahead of her, and now she would train better than she did before. Hopefully. She could only try. 

~%~

Jon walked towards his and Sansa’s training spot, only to be shocked to find her already there. And instead of sitting there like she had the day before, she was practicing the moves he had taught her already. So for a moment, he stood back and watched her, trying to see if she was doing it correctly. 

About fifty percent was right, but her footing was wrong. With each strike she almost fell on her bottom, and every time that did happen he felt the need to chuckle. But then when it happened again and again, he saw her let out a sigh of anger and then sit down, running a hand through her long red hair. She looked tired, and he saw the distress in her eyes. She was sad that she wasn’t getting it as well as she did the day before. Jon bites his lip and sighs. 

It’s not like he wanted her to fail. In fact, he wanted the complete opposite, especially after last night. Sansa needed to learn how to protect herself, and needed to perfect that. But he knew that she wasn’t going to get it straight away. It was only natural. So quietly, he walks over to her. At his footsteps, she looks up. The defeat is there. 

“See that atrociousness,” she mumbles. 

He sits down next to her and places his hand over hers, causing her to look back over at him. “You don’t just pick it up right away, Sansa,” he says quietly. “It takes time to learn how to train and how to fight. Practice is what you need.” 

Sansa sighs and nods. “I know this. I do. It’s just I was doing so well yesterday and today…” Her words trail off, and she looks away. Jon looks at her quietly, trying to see what might be going through her head. A moment later, she looks back at him. “I had another nightmare last night, and I was bad…it threw me off. Now I can’t seem to do as well.”

Jon felt his heart drop a bit. He did feel bad for Sansa because of those nightmares. She didn’t deserve to go through the horrors she did. Quietly, he tilts her head up so she could look up at him. She was silent, staring at the ground. “Sansa.” At him saying her name, she looks up at him quietly. “I am not going to let anyone touch you. Ever again. Ramsey is dead, he will never touch you again. And neither will Petyr, or anyone else.” 

Sansa was quiet, staring at him with her little blue eyes. But after a moment, her body seemed to relax and she nods, looking at the ground. “I know…I know you’re protective, Jon.” She looks back at him. “You have been since I came here again. But this still scares me. It all scares me. I’m supposed to be this strong woman who is brave and wants to rule Winterfell with you and make sure we are the best we can be, but how can I do that if I’m not even at my best?”

She had a point there. It was true. When someone wasn’t feeling as good as they should be, they weren’t the best to other people either. He had known it when he had been with Ygritte that he hadn’t been the best fighter. When she had died, and he had moved on years later, that’s when he felt like he was trying his hardest. Everyone could improve, even he, but he was at least trying now. 

That was what Sansa was trying to get at. She felt like she was useless because she wasn’t at her best. Because she had nightmares. And honestly, he didn’t understand why she thought that. “I still have nightmares,” he admits. 

She looks over at him, her brow furrowed. He nods. 

“Sansa, we all do. It’s a part of human nature to have those dreams that scare us. But they don’t control us.” He looks behind him; at the path he had taken from Winterfell. “Just because you have nightmares doesn’t mean that you are any less capable of leading, or ruling, or even just helping. Nightmares don’t control you. You are helpful and useful and everything in-between that. And you learning to train just adds onto that. You need to have a little bit of reassurance when training like this. You have to know you can do this.” 

Sansa looks at him quietly, but this time with a small smile. He had made her happy. And admitted that seeing the smile made him a little happy as well. She nods and stands, grabbing her sword. “Thank you, Jon.” And then she pulls out the weapon. “But let’s train. I have to practice, right?”

Jon nods and stands, glad to see her willing to try again. And with that, they started another day of training. 

But in the distance, two eyes watched the pair, a small, terrifying smile forming on a set of lips.

~%~

Sorry it’s a little shorter, but I felt like I wanted to make it a little shorter than before. And who is this person who’s watching our pair, let’s wait and see :)

Thank you guys so much for reading. Love it, hate it? Tell me in the reviews! You guys are awesome and the reviews always keep me writing. Follows and favorites make my day as well. You are all amazing people and you always make me want to write more. 

Thank you for reading again and hope you all have an awesome day. Love ya! 

~Ali

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Want to kill me for even thinking of it? Let me know in the reviews because I honestly don’t know haha. The reviews and follows and favorites always keep me going. You guys are the best readers. 
> 
> Hope you all have an awesome day! Love ya!
> 
> ~Ali


End file.
